


Won't Someone Dance With Me?

by RichieBrook



Series: Contact [2]
Category: Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Subdrop, Subspace, Touch-Starved Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichieBrook/pseuds/RichieBrook
Summary: Alex's way of dealing with the coronavirus outbreak comes down to... well, not dealing with it. Miles has a solution.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Series: Contact [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681258
Comments: 30
Kudos: 67





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> (i'm so sorry lol)

It’s Miles who booked the room but it’s Alex who arrives first, carrying a small overnight bag which contains the bare minimum: his pyjamas, a change of clothes, toiletries and condoms. His guitar case is in in his other hand, battered and worse for wear. He’s not entirely sure why he brought his guitar, but its familiar weight comforts him. He’s jittery. Nervous. He feels out of place the minute he sets both bags down and looks around.

He finds himself in a fairly standard hotel room, impersonal and pristine. The bed is disproportionately large, imposing itself on the room, and on Alex. As if it knows exactly what’s about to unfold itself. It doesn’t do much to settle Alex’s nerves.

The room has huge windows looking out over the city, its streets buzzing with commuters. Alex closes the thick, velvet curtains, shutting the world out until the only sign of an outside world existing is the sound of rain pattering rhythmically against the glass. There are two comfortable looking leather chairs by the window, flanking a side table on which a bottle of pink champagne and chocolates are presented. Alex swallows around the lump in his throat as he steps forward and takes hold of the card accompanying the treats. _Dear Mr Kane_ , it says. _On behalf of our entire staff, we would like to welcome you to our hotel. We are honoured that you have chosen to stay with us and look forward to providing you with a memorable experience._ Alex can’t help but roll his eyes and smile. Of course Miles would get free champagne. It’s the sort of thing that, after years of knowing him, has long since ceased to be surprising.

Unable to stay still, he checks out the ensuite bathroom. It has a shiny bathtub and the neat stack of towels on the cabinet next to it looks fluffy and soft. Mindlessly, Alex approaches it and runs his hand over the soft material. He passes the mirror above the sinks on his way there and pauses to frown at his mirror image on the way back. His hair is styled back nonchalantly, the way he knows Miles likes it. He’s wearing a loose, cream coloured shirt that’s barely buttoned up and a pair of grey, fitted trousers. On his feet are a pair of Gucci loafers, the same pair he knows Miles owns. Perhaps it’s a little too much. Perhaps he’s tried a little too hard, which is something Miles will notice right away. Alex runs his hand through his hair and pushes the chain around his neck back under his shirt, then makes up his mind. He’s about to return to the room to change when the door bursts open.

“Al, baby?” The hoarse, charming quality to Miles’s voice makes Alex’s heart jump. He flinches. Jumpy. He’s been so jumpy lately. The door clicks shut again and he can hear Miles throw something, probably his own bag, onto the bed. Alex takes one last look in the mirror. It’s too much, it’s definitely too much, and Miles will chuckle at him for it in that way that only he does, but Alex won’t be flattered like he usually is. He’ll be embarrassed. But it’s too late to go in there and change now. He smooths his hair back in a half-hearted attempt to make himself look a bit more confident, a little less malleable, but it’s a lost cause. His hair flops right back into its original, lush shag, as if it _wants_ Miles to laugh at him. Miles pokes his head around the doorframe and looks at him via the mirror. “Hiya, babe. What ya doin’? You weren’t hiding from me, I hope?”

“Joost - you know.” Alex tears himself away from the mirror. Nerves close up his throat and he smiles sheepishly. His skin tingles, but he won’t let himself approach Miles.

Miles shakes his head. “C’mere, Al. Give us a kiss. I’ve missed yer face.”

Alex comes closer. Mechanically, almost. He walks straight into the circle of Miles arm, lets Miles press him close, lets Miles kiss him. Soft lips move against Alex’s dry ones, which tingle and betray him to himself almost immediately. As if that’s the start signal, he lets out a puff of air against Miles’s lips, goes in again, bites his bottom lip and tightens his grip, until Miles gently, carefully almost, takes him by his upper arms and squeezes.

“Calm down,” he murmurs and Alex almost laughs. Still, he takes a step back. His own overdone attire forgotten for a moment, he takes in Miles. He’s sporting the buzz cut again (Alex can’t wait to run his hand through it) and he’s dressed much more casual than Alex for a change. He’s wearing a pair of faded skinny jeans and a T-shirt with the psychedelic, colourful Yellow Submarine print on it, the vibrant colours complementing the shiny gold chain on his neck. He looks like summer personified. The urge to take Miles outside, beg him to wrap his arm around his waist and brave the streets of London with him, showing him off, grinning behind his sunglasses, takes Alex by surprise.

Miles grins. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. And why wouldn’t he? Alex should know what he’s doing, too. They’ve been in this situation plenty a time. A hotel room, a bed, a severe lack of personal space. None of it is new. What’s about to unfold here isn’t new, either. Alex has handed over control to Miles more times than he cares to count. Still, that though is not enough to calm him. It’s odd to not be at home. Maybe he should have stayed at home. Just to be sure he isn’t making Miles ill, even though he hasn’t seen a soul in close to two weeks.

“You look stunning,” Miles says. The awe in his voice surprises Alex. He should smile and thank him, but he drops his forehead to Miles’s shoulder instead.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Miles leans down to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed ya, Al. Wish you just would ‘ave come to mine place when I asked.”

“I do, too,” Alex replies, absently, too occupied with burying his nose in Miles’s familiar scent to really pay attention to his words.

“How long have you been stuck in your house for?”

Alex shrugs his shoulders. “A little over two weeks. I know we’re all doing it, I know it’s not a big deal. I’ve a nice house and I can get me groceries delivered and all. I’m healthy. It’s joost -”

“Hush.” Miles lays his thumbs against Alex’s cheeks and silences him with a gentle press of his lips. “We are all doing it. But some of us get into our head a little quicker than others. I’m guilty as charged as well.”

Alex flinches back. “Why didn’t ye tell me? I told yeh, if ye need anythin’ - ”

“And I told you right at the very start to come to mine and self-isolate there, instead of holing yourself up in yer own house. Have you been looking after yourself at all?”

Alex opens his mouth to reply, but Miles shakes his head at him. It’s one of those curt, restrained movements that take Alex’s breath right out of his chest. Alex wants to hate him for it, but it’s exactly this sort of thing that made him text Miles in a panic late last night. Not ten minutes later, Miles replied with their hotel reservation.

Now, Miles takes a hold of both of Alex’s upper arms. “How bad is it?” he asks. Alex attempts to avoid his gaze, but Miles doesn’t give him a chance. “Have you been writing at all?”

Alex shakes his head. A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and Miles carefully brushes it back in place. “Thought so,” he muses. “What about yer girlfriend? Are you two lookin’ after each other properly?”

“No.”

“No, eh? Why’s that?”

“She’s gone back to Paris, to her family. We decided it’d be best to - ”

“Is that why? You’ve done long distance before.”

“I mean…” Alex imagines himself dropping to his knees right in front of Louise and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Miles, you know…”

“I know, babe.” Miles caresses his jaw with gentle fingers. Something in his voice changes, and Alex knows this is it; this is Miles is slipping into the role he’ll take on for the rest of the night, as effortlessly as he always does. The few times Alex was in charge it wasn’t half as effortless as Miles is making it look right now. It’s pretty impressive, as they only ever explore power play once every couple months, when either of them needs it. But Miles doesn’t look like it’s been a while. He touches Alex’s jaw and smiles.

“She doesn’t know you like I do. Fair enough, though. Even I have to admit that it’s been somethin’ of a study, getting to where I am with yeh.” He tugs on Alex’s hair, and Alex’s eyes flutter closed. He’s a little confused. He wants Miles to direct him to his knees and tell him what to do, how to act, how to move, but he also wants something else, something he can’t quite put his finger on. As he tries to think of what exactly that is, Miles wraps himself around him. His arms slide around Alex, one hand slipping into his back pocket as the other disappears under his oversized shirt. It creeps up his back, pressing them closer together. Alex takes another shaky inhale and lets Miles push him closer until he can’t move anymore; until their chests are pressed flush against each other, both Alex’s arms trapped between them.

“Touch me,” Miles directs, and Alex does. He doesn’t have to think about it. He frees his arm and lets one hand travel up Miles arm, squeezing tighter than can be comfortable. He mirrors Miles’s movements with his other, letting it slide under Miles’s shirt, feeling toned muscles under his fingertips. He whimpers. If he weren’t so ridiculously desperate for Miles’s help, he’d be mortified.

But Miles doesn’t do so much as smile. “’s alreyt, baby,” he promises. “It’s an easy fix, this. Trust me. We’ll get you there. Take off me shirt, Al.”

Alex hesitates. As much as he loves the sight of Miles’s naked chest, tan and toned in all the right places, the shirt makes him smile. Its loud colours contrast beautifully with the pristine whites and creams of their hotel room.

“Go on.” Miles takes a step back, drawing an awkward sound from Alex that sounds embarrassingly like a sob, and spreads his arms a little. “Take it off, baby.” Alex takes a step towards him, closing the distance again, and takes a hold of the colourful hem, slowly dragging it up and over Miles’s head. The heat that radiates from Miles’s chest makes him want to stay there and not do anything else for the rest of their hotel stay, but Miles has other plans. “Good, Al,” he praises, tossing his shirt into a corner behind him. Alex watches it land on the lamp on the nightstand and snickers, making Miles smile, too.

Averting his gaze again, Alex’s runs his hands slowly over Miles’s torso. “Don’t tie me up tonight,” he murmurs. “I want to touch.”

Miles stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Then, they harden. “You don’t get to call the shots I’m afraid. I want to touch, too. Did that even cross yer mind?”

Alex hesitates. He does know that Miles likes touch. He also knows that Miles likes to touch _him_. But this is different. “No. Yes. Tonight’s different,” he gets out, each work feeling like stone scraping over his tongue. He grazes Miles’s chest with the pads of his fingers, runs a thumb over a nipple. Miles’s chest radiates warmth and Alex wishes he could just curl up against his chest and finally fucking sleep. “I need to touch.”

Miles, even whilst he’s visibly relaxing under Alex’s ministrations, looks thoroughly unimpressed. “Shame. Tonight _would_ ‘ave been different if you’d just have come to mine on the first day of isolation, like I asked you to. You wouldn’t have been on yer own for two weeks if you would ‘ave just told me yes, please and thank you. So stubborn, Al.”

Alex closes his eyes for a moment. This, this tone of voice, this calm, collected demeanour, is precisely what he needed. He nods, once, even though there would have been no way he’d have said yes to Miles’s offer. The times of them living in each other’s proximity like that are in the past. Where they should remain. He has a girlfriend and Miles, well - Miles has lots of them, girlfriends _and_ boyfriends.

“It’s different,” he repeats, trying to ignore the way Miles’s hands move under his shirt. Rather than taking it off, Miles starts working on the buttons of his trousers and soon the rough material is sliding down over Alex’s legs. The hem of his shirt brushes the tops of his thighs and his crotch, which has yet to take an interest. Miles cups it, squeezing softly as his lips quirk up in a teasing smile, and Alex feels himself stir in his boxers, the inside of Miles upper arm pressed flush against his stomach. He makes a sound that sounds somewhere between a moan and a deep inhale, and presses his head to Miles’s shoulder once more.

“I know, baby.” Miles kisses his hair. “Let me explain to you what we’ll be doing tonight.” Miles slowly works Alex’s cock through his boxers and presses his lips to his ear. “I’m going to tie you up nice and tight, love. Your arms, your legs, even your chest, eh? _Especially_ your chest.” He traces a makeshift pattern crisscross over Alex chest with his index finger, a concentrated frown furrowing his brow, as if he’s already mapping out the pattern the ropes will make later. Alex shakes his head in protest, but Miles silences him with a curt shake of his head before he can utter any sound. “It’s not your choice, I’m afraid. Tell me your safeword.”

Alex wants to say no. He wants to beg Miles to keep his arms free, but he knows it would be to no avail. Either he safewords now and just asks Miles for a night in bed together, which Miles would agree to wholeheartedly and without asking questions, or he’ll let Miles do this to him. The choice is made easily, albeit with a little more hesitation than usually when they play games like these. “Me safeword’s Death Ramps, Miles,” he murmurs, and Miles nods.

“Good man, Al. Say it and we’ll stop, no questions asked, right away.”

“Don’t worry,” he adds, and Alex realises too late just how mortified he must look. “There’ll be plenty of touching. Tonight’s for you, Al. Am not gonna hurt yeh, love. Wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not that kind of night.”

Alex does laugh a little at that, and he rolls his eyes at Miles. He can’t count the times that Miles spanked him on two hands anymore. It’s what works, though. It’s what loosens him up after days of writing and composing and overthinking. But Miles is right. Tonight shouldn’t be that kind of night. Alex is pretty sure he’d safeword the second Miles put him over his knee. It’s reassuring that Miles seems to know that.

Miles doesn’t tell him to undress. He does that himself. He slowly unbuttons Alex’s shirt, allowing Alex to rest his hands on his arms right until the second that he starts taking it off. He alerts Alex with a gentle tap against his wrist and Alex complies wordlessly, dropping his arms and letting Miles take the shirt off him. Miles shimmies his shorts down his legs, letting Alex lean on him as he steps out of them, and last but not least, making Alex’ heart stutter in his chest, he reaches out for his neck. He unclasps the chain that is always there, making Alex feel much more naked than by simply standing in front of Miles without his clothes on.

“I liked your little idea from when you were in charge last time,” explains Miles, as he sets the chain down onto the nightstand and takes off his own one as well. He wraps it around Alex’s neck instead, fastening the clasp with a smile on his lips. It’s a little chunkier than Alex’s one, a little heavier. Alex takes a shaky inhale. “Thanks,” he mutters, reaching up to finger the chain thoughtlessly.

The fact that Miles doesn’t even have to try grounds him a little. Whenever Alex is in charge, which is only ever when Miles really, really needs it, they get him through his bad day through trial and error. But when Miles takes care of Alex, he doesn’t seem to even have to think about it. His voice drops an octave, he stops being jumpy and talkative, and he simply stands up to the task at hand, to help Alex, to guide him through whatever he’s dealing with and bring him out safely at the end. It comes natural to him.

“Miles?”

Miles nods, giving Alex permission to speak.

“Give me one more kiss. I’ll do whatever you ask. One more, though.”

It earns Alex the most brilliant smile he’s seen all day - no, all month. “Oh, baby,” Miles murmurs. “You should’ave texted me sooner.” He closes the distance between them once more and wraps both arms around Alex again, before pressing his lips to Alex’s. They kiss on and off for a while, lips lingering and thin strings of saliva connecting them each them they pull back for a moment. Alex melts against Miles’s chest, closing his eyes and slowly letting himself calm down.

After wat seems like forever and not long enough at the same time, Miles pulls back. “Ready?”

Alex nods, feeling himself tense again as soon as Miles steps back, his body making it clear to him that he has no choice. They have to. He has to. “Ready.”

“Very well.” Miles returns his nod. “On the bed. No need to spread your arms or anyfin’. Just lie down flat on your back.” Miles sounds almost casual, as if he couldn’t care less whether or not Alex listens to him, but there’s an edge to his voice that makes sure that Alex can’t help but pay attention.

Alex does as he’s asked and lies down. The crisp hotel sheets feeling cold and alien under him, reminding him of that jittery feeling from earlier. It’s starting to make a strong comeback now that he and Miles have parted. He draws up his knees, but Miles is right there to take him by the ankles and pull his legs back down. “None of that. You listen to me, Al, or we’re going to have to take another, less pleasant route, do you understand?”

Alex nods. He’s not out on punishment. Not tonight. “Yeah,” he manages. “Understood.”

“Good boy,” Miles coos, rewarding him with a caress over his jaw and neck that makes gooseflesh break out on Alex’s skin. He whimpers. A sudden albeit familiar feeling of panic coats his skin with a wafer-thin, cold layer of sweat. It doesn’t come entirely out of nowhere, not after two weeks of sitting around on his sofa doing virtually nothing, of letting his hair get greasy and walking around the house in holey tracksuit bottoms. On his coffee table is a stack of books he meant to get through during this period. His fridge is stocked with specialty beers and healthy food that he hasn’t touched. It’s odd, really. Generally speaking Alex is great at being alone. He takes pleasure in long days of writing, reading and listening to music. It makes him feel at ease to spend his time alone, meandering through his home and writing whatever comes to mind, but. There _is_ a ‘but’ this time. He can’t quite put his finger on where it’s coming from, just like he wasn’t sure what else he needs from Miles earlier, when he was hoping to be directed to his knees. Either way, he breaks out into a cold sweat, the sudden feeling of it grasping him by the throat.

“Alexander. Eyes on me, love.”

Miles’s voice cuts straight through the fog in his head, and Alex opens his eyes, finding Miles’s gaze. Miles nods. “Best keep ‘em open,” he hums. “Eyes on me. Easy.” There are two hands on his upper arms, pressing lightly, not minding the sweaty film on his skin, and Alex focusses on those. He wants Miles to keep touching him. To just lay down on top of him, unmoving, just breathing. He wants -

He reaches out and wraps both arms around Miles, squeezing him to his chest. It’s pathetic and at any other time Miles would put him over his knee for it right away, but Miles lets him. He lowers himself down until they’re chest to chest, and lets Alex trace patterns over his back, feeling out the pattern those familiar muscles make, soaking up the heat of Miles’s skin through his fingertips, tracing the birthmarks he knows are on Miles’s back.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Miles asks, head hidden in the crook of Alex’s neck. “You know the word.”

Alex hesitates. It’s tempting to say it. _This_ is what he wants, after all. He wants Miles pressing him down with all his weight, he wants the skin on skin contact, the touches, the caresses. But he also knows that the second Miles will pull back, whether it’s after seconds or after hours, that jittery feeling of being ungrounded will be back, making him feel lost once more. Lying here like this, no matter how pleasant, won’t solve anything in the long run.

“You don’t ‘ave to worry,” Miles whispers into his ear, as if he’s read Alex’s thoughts. “I know it sounds a little scary, being tied up like that, but I promise you it won’t be. I’ve been practicin’. I know what it’ll feel like, Al. You’ll like it.”

Alex can’t help but breathe out a nervous laugh at that. “Yeh’ve been practicing?” he asks. “On yourself?”

“Hmm.” Miles murmurs. He kisses Alex’s neck, and Alex smiles, unsure. He already knows he won’t chicken out, but Miles’s idea doesn’t exactly excite him. It sounds daunting. Lonely.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. But you get me out of it the second it turns out it doesn’t work.” They’ve done handcuffs, blindfolds, toys. Even the bare minimum, along with Miles taking charge, often succeeds in calming Alex down and making him feel at home. But this? This sounds like a bridge too far. As if going along with this will equal confessing to something forbidden. Miles however doesn’t seem fazed. He’s not behaving like they’re doing something new. He’s just doing something _else_ that he knows Alex needs. That _Alex_ secretly also knows Alex needs. And yet. “You’ll get me out if I say the word. Promise me.”

“Naturally.” It’s that tone, still. Alex shivers, making Miles grin. He gets another kiss, lingering, clearly meant to make a lasting impression, to make Alex feel it even after Miles pulls back.

Slowly but surely Miles separates from him, leaving Alex to lie flat on his back, a little out of breath from the mixture of beginning arousal and the thick, tangible anxiety of being on his own again. He watches Miles, his jeans so tight it seems like they’ve been painted onto him, move across the room to retrieve his bag.

First, he gets out a pair of blunt-edged bandage scissors, showing them to Alex before putting them on the nightstand. “Say the word and I’ll cut you free within seconds,” he says calmly. “You’re safe with me, Al. I promise.”

Alex nods. “I know I’m safe,” he manages. “Just - get on with it.”

Miles nods. He retrieves a thick length of black, velvety rope from his bag. He leaves the bag on the floor, right by the bed, its remaining contents hidden from Alex’s nervous eyes, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sit up for me, baby.” Alex sits up, his upper body taut and uncomfortable. It’s odd how you can feel so completely outside of yourself as well as trapped in your own body at the same time. “Miles,” he urges, and Miles tuts.

“We’re going to go slow, Al. This is me first time tryin’ this on ye and yer not goin’ to rush me through it.” The concentrated frown has made its reappearance, and Alex reaches out as if to smooth it from Miles’s forehead. Miles smiles at him for it. He taps Alex’s wrist. “Arms up a little. Eyes on me.”

Alex complies without trouble. It’s simple to follow commands. Arms up. He can do that. Miles hums approvingly and Alex earns another smile, which he returns without thinking about it.

And then it starts. Miles folds the rope in half and loops the double rope around Alex’s torso, right above his stomach. In the centre of Alex’s back, he draws the ends through the loop he’s created, fitting the rope snug against Alex’s skin. Alex takes a breath, testing the resistance, and Miles, completely quiet for a change as he concentrates, nods his approval. He loops the rope around the same place once more, tightening it ever so slightly, and Alex blinks, suddenly not feeling much like talking anymore either.

Miles works in utter concentration. The rope goes up and between Alex’s shoulder blades, exerting a strange albeit not unpleasant pressure against his spine. Then, it makes a horizontal line again, this time above Alex pecs. Miles moves slowly and with purpose. He loops the working end of his rope under the horizontal part right above Alex’s stomach and brings it up again, over his left shoulder. He repeats the process, this time drawing the length of rope over his right shoulder, creating a harness that traps his upper chest in a tight, unforgiving hold. Alex shifts experimentally It’s very noticeable, but not uncomfortable. Miles lays his hand against Alex’s neck, his thumb resting idly against his jugular, caressing the skin there. “You doin’ alright?”

“Yes,” Alex whispers. His heart rate has sped up, and he draws a deep breath, squirming slightly at the way the rope constricts him. Snug, but not too snug. He takes a deep breath, letting the harness tighten on him on purpose, and smiles as he breathes out.

Miles nuzzles his cheek. “Feels nice, eh?” he whispers, and Alex nods shakily. It’s simple, really, and it’s nothing like what they usually do when taking on these roles - like the times when Miles tied Alex up with both hands above his head, or the times where Miles spanked him until he was in tears - but it’s just as good, if not better for the situation at hand. Miles runs a gentle hand through his hair, before gripping onto it and pulling him down. Alex willingly lets himself be guided onto his back again, his eyes fluttering closed until Miles tuts and reminds him, without words, to keep his eyes on him. He does so, letting his gaze roam his broad chest. Satisfied that Alex won’t look away again, Miles retrieves another length of the same sturdy rope. Instead of using it however, he sets the coil down onto the bed, the soft material brushing Alex’s hip in a silent reminder of what’s to come. There’s more. Miles shows him a small plug. There’s no question in his eyes, it’s going to happen whether Alex is in the mood or not, but Alex manages a half-shake of his head nonetheless. Miles ignores him. He grabs Alex’s calves and spreads his legs. Alex feels the tell-tale heat of his cheeks turning a rosy red when Miles gaze is drawn to his lower body. No matter how much being exposed like this makes Alex want to squirm, his cock immediately takes an interest. Miles gives him another smug smile. He places both hands on Alex’s hips and slowly drags them downwards, following the V-shape down to his pubes. Alex presses his hips up slightly, but he knows better than to ask for anything. He keeps his eyes open and on Miles, as promised, and waits, his senses on sharp. When Miles wraps his fingers around Alex’s length and starts pumping it, Alex _keens_. It’s the most undignified, unexpected sound, and he immediately goes a bright red once he realises it was him who uttered it.

Miles doesn’t even flinch. “Very good,” he praises, using a gentle but firm hand to push Alex’s hips down onto the mattress again. “Spread those legs, baby.”

And Alex does. He spreads them wide enough for Miles to be able to drag his fingers through the cleft between his butt cheeks, and protests only half-heartedly when Miles pulls his cheeks apart with both hands. His skin flushes with embarrassment at this close inspection, and he mewls softly, rolling his hips, as Miles presses a finger to his hole. “Think you can take this without any preparation?” he muses, picking the plug back up again and considering its size. Alex’s eyes widen. He shakes his head. The plug isn’t unreasonably large and clearly just designed to keep him full rather than to give him pleasure, but the thought of taking anything without Miles stretching him first makes his heart race. Miles isn’t paying him any attention, though. He rifles through his bag to find the lube he brought, and coats his index and middle finger liberally. “Perhaps only a little,” he muses, as if Alex weren’t even really there. “Let’s see.” To Alex’s horror, he uses one hand to keep Alex’s cheeks spread, his fingers digging into the soft skin there, making it so that Alex cannot unfeel the fact that Miles is touching him like that in his most private of places, opening him up so he can see everything. He closes his eyes again, which earns him a sharp slap to his thigh. It smarts nicely, and Alex calms down. He opens his eyes again.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did I tell you earlier?”

Alex thinks he might explode if his face goes any redder. “To keep me eyes open.”

“So keep ‘em open, babe. I really don’t want to abandon this because I have to give you a spanking.”

Alex nods wordlessly. He sinks into the rope containing his upper body again and lets his legs fall open wider.

“Good boy, Al,” Miles says. “I’ll give you two fingers, but after that you’re going to have to do the work yourself.”

It should probably make Alex even more nervous, but it doesn’t. The idea of Miles’s fingers in him makes his cock pulse against his abdomen and the thought of having to accommodate the girth of the plug despite a bare minimum of preparation sets his heart racing. He nods once.


	2. II

Miles’s fingers are tingly against his skin, electric almost, and Alex has trouble keeping his eyes on Miles. They slowly find their way inside, the index finger first, gently pressing, opening him up, then the middle finger. Miles doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he moves his fingers in and out, massaging Alex’s inner walls, and Alex falls silent under him, his cock pulsing, his entire body revolving around the feeling of Miles touching him so intimately. Before he’s fully used to it however, Miles pulls back his fingers and grins toothily at him. “Wouldn’t want to make this too easy on you,” he says, presenting Alex with the bulbous plug that most definitely requires more preparation than Alex just got. Miles lubes it up royally and presses it against Alex’s hole unceremoniously, exerting a teasing pressure that has Alex hold his breath.

“Ready?”

“Fook, no.”

“Shame.” Miles pushes. Alex feels his rim protest and throws his head back as he tries to concentrate.

“ _Look_ at me, Alexander.” At any other day Alex wouldn’t have gotten away with so many mistakes, but today’s different. Alex isn’t sure what Miles is getting at, but he’s being exceptionally lenient. 

Alex looks.

Miles nods. “Eyes on me now, la. Eyes on me.”

He pushes harder. Alex’s rim gives in and slowly but surely starts to work on accommodating the blunt plug. Alex inhales but forgets to exhale. The unrelenting pressure of the ropes against his chest is making him feel floaty and warm.

“Breathe, baby.”

Alex breathes. This works. He can do this; Listen to Miles, look at him, focus on the harness squeezing his upper body and on the intrusion between his legs.

The plug slides into place with a vulgar squelching noise that makes Miles grin and Alex turn even redder. Miles sits back, all the while keeping one hand on Alex’s thigh, as Alex (eyes on Miles, he reminds himself) works to accommodate it. Slowly but surely, the burn turns into a bearable stretch and he relaxes, his body, sweaty and flushed, sagging into the soft bedsheets.

“ _Perfect._ Yer doin’ mega, Al,” Miles breathes. He starts to slowly pump Alex’s cock and it has _never_ been this fucking hard to keep his eyes on Miles. Sweat beads on Alex’s forehead as he moves with Miles, pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach. And then suddenly that hand is gone and Miles is reaching for more rope. He grabs Alex’s calves and pushes his legs flush together, forcing him to focus on the relentless intrusion of the plug even more.

“I’ve been practicing this like a madman,” Miles murmurs casually. He starts to explain about the tutorials and the dark depths of the internet that he had to go through to find what he needed, but Alex doesn’t really listen. Miles’s voice is yet another addition to all those things Miles is using to settle him, and he drifts on the cadence of it rather than doing his best to make out separate words and sentences. As he speaks, Miles starts looping the rope around Alex’s lower legs, pressing them tightly together, creating a diamond shaped pattern over the top of them and trapping the plug effectively inside him. Under, over, knot. Under, over, knot. Alex wants it to go on forever. The steady movements of rope over skin, the tightening of the knots trapping him, the compression, Miles hovering over him with a look of utmost concentration.

“Miles?”

“Yes, Al?”

“Can I close me eyes now? For a sec?”

Miles gives him a smile. “Of course, baby. Just feel this for a little bit. It’s good of ye to ask.”

And Alex closes his eyes, feeling as if doing so is like letting go of the edge of a swimming pool after getting in and finally letting the water carry you. Miles works slowly and precisely, using the rope to restrain Alex within himself, to make sure not a single part - not even a single thought - spills out anymore. Alex lets out a shaky breath and Miles pauses to brush his cheek with the back of his hand. “Yer doin’ phenomenally,” he promises. “This is exactly what I hoped would happen, babe. You impress me every time, eh? You’re a little diamond, Al.”

Alex’s chest quivers at so much praise, the ropes reminding him of all the wonderful things that slowly but surely slipped his mind over weeks of staying within the confines of his living room on his own.

Miles finishes the leg tie with a final, gentle tug on the rope and one last secure knot. It ends right above Alex’s knees, rendering his legs useless. Alex feels free. He wishes Miles would just go on. More steady movements, more patterns, more rope holding him. More of it all. The loss of the process makes him whimper and Miles kisses him, then takes his wrists, massaging them gently in both hands. “We’re not done yet. It’s okay.” He disappears for a moment, then returns, straddling Alex waist. Alex can feel the rough, hot material of his jeans against his naked skin and presses into it, making Miles laugh softly. “You were hesitant about me tying your arms earlier. Thoughts?”

“Do it,” Alex blurts. He only realises he’s spoken when he hears himself say it. His thoughts are muddled. He can only feel. And he wants to feel more.

“Remind me of your safeword, sweet Al.”

“Fucking Death Ramps, Miles. Please.” He squirms under Miles, the plug teasing his walls, the rope holding him in its death grip. Miles grasps his wrists once more and starts winding the rope around them, making patterns and loops that Alex can’t quite follow with his eyes closed. All he knows is that slowly but surely his wrist and underarms are being pulled closer together, until they’re pressed just as flush against each other as his legs. Miles folds them against his chest and ties them to the chest harness. Alex finds himself enjoying each and every little tug and caress. He wriggles his toes, one of the only parts of his body that he’s still able to move, and catches himself smiling. Clearly Miles notices, as Alex gets a kiss on the right corner of his lips. “How’s that?”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah?” Miles gives a gentle tug on the chest harness, the rope tightening slightly around Alex’s skin, squeezing him in all the right ways. “I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of this,” he grins. “Definitely worth all the practice. You were fuckin’ made for this, Al.”

Miles starts touching him. Pinching and teasing his nipples until they’re erect and aching, tracing the sensitive skin right above and below the rope. He pushes Alex’s legs closer together, earning himself a moan as the plug grazes past sensitive walls. Alex’s cock twitches, and he inhales deeply through his nose. Miles grins and reaches down, wrapping his fingers around Alex’s cock once more. He jacks him off slowly, teasingly, grabbing the base of his cock whenever Alex gets too close. And Alex is pretty sure he could stay here forever, just floating.

Too soon, Miles lets up. “Eyes open,” he commands, and Alex barely hears it but does as he’s told, watching Miles through bleary, half-lidded eyes; watching Miles slowly pull down his jeans. He’s not wearing any underwear and his erect cock springs free as soon as the tight material glides down over his thighs. Alex subconsciously tries to spread his legs, but there’s no give. For a moment, in his strange, muddled state of mind, it confuses him, and he whimpers, trying to tell Miles what’s gone wrong here without using the words. He tugs again, but the thick rope is stubborn and keeps his legs glued firmly together.

“It’s okay,” Miles tells him, still standing at the foot of the bed, slowly fisting his own cock. Alex watches him, his jaw slack, his eyes feeling hot and prickly with sudden tears.

“It’s okay. Keep watching.”

Alex blinks. His vision is blurry around the edges, making the impersonal hotel room look as far away as he feels.

Miles straddles Alex’s legs again and reaches for the lube. He coats his fingers with it liberally. Alex realises what’s about to happen only when it does; when Miles presses two fingers against his own entrance at the same time. That’s new. That’s not how they usually - “Miles… ”

Miles shakes his head. He works himself open painstakingly slowly, forcing Alex to lie completely still and watch, his cock twitching and leaking at the sight of Miles opening himself up. Miles first moves his fingers slowly in and out, then starts rolling his hips. His eyes go dark, Alex’s mouth goes dry.

Miles adds a third finger. He tosses his head back and moans unabashedly, a sound that goes straight to Alex’s leaking cock. Pulling out again, Miles grabs a condom packet from where it was hidden from Alex’s sight and tears it open with unsteady hands. Then he’s rolling the condom over Alex’s cock and positioning himself right above him. Alex’s heart pounds furiously and he balls his hands into fists against his chest. There’s no way he’s going to last long. Not like this. Not confined like this. Not with Miles everywhere around him. “Do it,” he whispers hoarsely. “Please, Miles. Jesus. Fucking _please._ ”

And Miles slowly but surely lets himself sink down on Alex’s cock. Alex swears quietly under his breath, his heart racing as he tries to move but finds himself unable to. “Breathe, Alex,” Miles reminds him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alex knows he should be the one to tell Miles that instead, but the thought doesn’t make it into words. It barely even sticks for longer than a couple of seconds.

Once Alex’s cock is fully sheathed inside Miles, Alex lets out a long breath through his mouth, willing his heart to slow its pace a little. His long hair sticks against his forehead. Miles keeps still for a second, letting them both adjust. His eyes are on Alex’s, boring into his relentlessly, and Alex finds himself unable to look away. The ropes hold him firmly but gently enough, mimicking the tightest of hugs, the plug pushes persistently at those sensitive muscles inside of him and Miles squeezes around him. Alex sobs. This is it, he realises. Miles is everywhere around him and he wants more of it. He wants all of it.

Miles seems to get the hint. He runs his hands over the ropes binding his arms and chest, reiterating the patterns and reminding Alex of just how powerless he is right in this moment. A sigh escapes Alex’s lips. His hips buck up, his cock seeking out Miles’ tight heat.

And then Miles starts moving, slowly, steadily going up and down, riding him. It takes him a while to find a rhythm that works, but once he’s got it his movements speed up. His chest is flushed and his eyes have a glazed, faraway look in them that makes Alex swallow thickly. At the beginning of the evening Alex would have begged for him to touch, but now he simply presses his bound arms a little closer to his chest and takes it all in. His eyes slip shut again, and this time Miles doesn’t berate him for it, allowing Alex to sink further and further into his own little world, contained and caressed from every angle. He relaxes in the tight embrace that Miles has roped him into, the coarse material a persistent reminder that Miles is not going to let him go with every inhale, with every little twitch of his legs, with every flex of his fingers. He’s vaguely aware that he’s babbling Miles’s name, the sounds a floaty echo in his own ears, and Miles is saying something, his tone laced with praise and awe, making Alex’s heart swell with unadulterated pride. He’s floating. He’s at ease and so very fucking far away, his head full of cotton and his eyelids heavy, his body safely contained by the cocoon of black rope, the plug keeping him conscious but only just.

For a moment, he dreads the inevitable moment when it will all be over, when Miles will release him and leave him to his own devices once more. But the thought is hazy and fleeting, and doesn’t make a lasting impression as Miles’s clenches down on him, causing Alex’s breath to hitch and the ropework around his chest to tighten. He clenches down on the plug, still buried deeply inside him, and _keens_. Miles’s smug laugh is breathy.

One hand leaves Alex’s body and Alex opens his eyes just long enough to see Miles reaching for himself, wrapping long fingers around his cock. He moans shamelessly, the sound going straight to Alex’s own cock, causing Alex to buck up as well as he can, the warmth quickly spreading. It slowly takes possession of him, making his toes curl. He throws his head back, bucks his hips up one last time, until he sees white. He cries out, the sound hoarse and alien to his own ears, his hips stuttering, and then Miles lets out one last, guttural moan and Alex feels cum splatter onto his stomach.

Alex pants.

Alex smiles.

He feels relieved. And warm.

Miles slows his movements.

There’s cotton wool in Alex’s head. There must be.

Miles tucks his head in the crook of Alex’s shoulder as he regains his breath and kisses his neck. They lie there for a while, regaining their breath, presses up closed against each other.

Long seconds stress into minutes.

Miles kisses his lips, Miles kisses his cheek. Miles kisses his neck. And Alex tenses. There’s a sheen of sweat on his neck.

And on his chest. And under his arms, and between his bound wrists and on his forehead and on his thighs. Sticky. Uncomfortable.

Miles wipes the smattering of tears that has landed on his cheeks away. Alex blinks. He didn’t even know they were there.

“Miles.” Alex shifts. The plug shifts with him. The rope shifts with him and he frowns. He shifts again.

“Yeah. Right ‘ere.”

Miles starts moving. He carefully eases the condom off Alex and wipes Alex’s stomach clean with a soft cloth.

Alex blinks. There are more tears and there’s Miles whispering in his ear, kissing his cheek, his jaw. Praising him. It all makes the sudden discomfort caused by the rope and the plug much more bearable. Alex sinks into the darkness again and stays there for a while, just drifting. Just breathing.

A gentle tap against his cheek. “Alexander.”

That means him. Alex opens his eyes, blinking against the harsh light.

“Good. Hi. Tell me how you feel.”

Miles’s frown is back. He’s worried.

Alex swallows. The room is too bright for his muddled mind, the rope a restricting, suddenly uncomfortable reminder of what was comfortable and reassuring only seconds ago, the blunt plug an intrusion he wants _out_ rather than something containing him from the inside. “Tired,” he manages, although that’s not what he means to say. “Get me out?” He doesn’t _mean_ to sound upset. He’s not upset, per se. But he has to get out. He wants out. He now wants Miles instead. He sobs again before he can stop himself. Miles’s hand is on his cheek in an instant, grounding him. Keeping him from floating away entirely.

“I’m gettin’ you out,” he murmurs. “No worries, Al. I’m gettin’ you out, babe. I’ll cut ‘em off yeh, alright? It’s faster that way.”

The cold metal of the scissors feels nice and soothing against his overheated skin as Miles starts to slowly cuts him loose. His arms, first. Inch by inch. Gradually, the pressure lessens. And then they’re free.

“Don’t move just yet. Let me help ye with that in a bit.”

Next are the ropes around his chest. The horizontal line above his stomach falls away, and the horizontal line above his pecs. Alex keeps his eyes firmly shut. The loss of the tight harness doesn’t make him feel worse like he feared. Instead, he feels strangely glad to be rid of it. He inhales and smiles through his tears. His eyes feel hot.

His legs are last. Miles carefully cuts them loose, knot by knot, the whisper of the scissors cutting through the rope making Alex smile absent-mindedly. And suddenly, he’s all free again. Free and feeling like his limbs are made out of jelly. If Miles let him, Alex would go to sleep right here, right now. But they still have a way to go. There’s still the uncomfortable bit.

“Don’t clench,” Miles chides, as he wraps his fingers around the base of the plug. “ _Let_ me, Alexander.”

Alex lets him, and Miles slowly eases it out, leaving him feel empty, but not unpleasantly so. Alex turns his head and nuzzles the pillow. Tired. He’s so tired. Miles leaves the bed for a moment, but doesn’t go far, as one hand stays on Alex’s calf. He rummages in his bag with the other, and then the bed dips under his weight again.

“Okay,” Miles mutters. “Arms first, babe.” He takes a gentle hold of Alex’s right arm, slowly stretching it, his fingers gently pressing into tired muscles, and bringing it to his side. He repeats the process with the other arm. It feels amazing. Alex can feel himself relax, the fear of it all being over sinking to the back of his mind once more.

“Good,” Miles comments. “There ya go.”

He takes the rope away from under Alex’s back and runs practiced hands slowly up and down Alex’s sides. They’re warm, making him sleepy.

Miles’s hands continue their path downwards, kneading Alex’s thighs, his shins, his calves. Even his feet. Alex is barely awake by the time Miles finishes.

“Good,” Miles praises once more. His voice is clearer now and Alex clings onto it, the compliment warming him up right from the inside. He smiles.

Miles flicks off the light switch, enveloping them in a comfortable darkness. Alex sighs and nods his thanks. He can feel Miles’s warmth next to him, and then Miles is pulling the soft duvet over the both of them, right up to Alex’s chin, making him shiver. Slowly, Miles adjusts them. He helps Alex move onto his side and comes up right behind him, pressing his chest and stomach flush against Alex’s back. Miles’s shins meet Alex’s calves and his arm comes up around Alex’s waist, securing him against Miles. Alex sighs. He covers Miles’s arm with his own and finally lets the cotton wool in his head get the best of him. While Miles radiates heat against his skin, he dozes off. Breathing has never come so easily.

Later, when when wakes, feeling groggy and achy, Miles insists on him drinking tea and feeds him saltines and fruit. Alex munches his way through everything Miles offers him, rests his weight on him and touches his shaved head, letting the prickly hairs graze his palm, and tuts. “Knew yeh’d go back to this. It’s yer best look.”

Miles laughs, clearly surprised. And unmistakably relieved. Pride surges in Alex’s chest.

“Finish your salad,” is all Miles says, and Alex smirks at him, pressing a piece of pineapple to Miles lips instead. Miles accepts and chuckles with his mouth full.

After their makeshift dinner Miles urges him to get out of bed and don his sleep clothes. He asks Alex to bring his pyjamas back, too, slowly helping him back to the surface by making him stretch his legs and do mundane tasks. Alex knows this. He stretches his tired limbs, the muscle ache he’ll be sure to feel in the morning already setting in, and retrieves Miles’s silk pyjamas as well as his own tracksuit bottoms and sleep shirt. Miles thanks him with a kiss, and the room falls silent once more as they change.

“Fanks,” Alex murmurs after they’ve settled down again, face to face this time. There’s probably a lot more to say. He should most likely tell Miles that it was good, that he’s still feeling warm all over, that he can still feel the vague impression of rope against his skin, that Miles smells so, _so_ good. But he hasn’t the words. Smoothing his own hair back and out of his face, he wraps both arms around Miles and hugs him.

“That’s quite alreyt, babe,” whispers Miles. “I’d be lying if I said I ‘aven’t been wanting to try this with yeh. Get some more sleep now. Go on.”

And so Alex sleeps.


	3. III

The hotel phone rings, waking them both. The sun peeks through the slit in the heavy curtains and Alex blinks, feeling strangely nauseous and absolutely exhausted, as if he had way too much to drink last night. Miles reaches over him and makes an abrupt end to the incessant ringing by picking up the phone. “Hello?” He rests his free hand on Alex’s thigh, beckoning him to stay still and rest. Alex blinks and closes his eyes again.

Miles remains completely calm on the phone. He’s good at that, Alex has always found. At finding the right words, at navigating his way through any conversation with minimal effort. He allows himself to doze off again, hoping to beat the nausea and that strange fake hangover. Not much later however, Miles squeezes his shoulder, waking him. “Al? Are you up?”

Alex hums. He turns and buries his head against Miles’s chest. He’s less desperate to touch than he was last night, which is a good sign, but he still finds himself still seeking out Miles’ warmth. He feels like a big cat, languid and lazy, and most of all just wanting to be petted. If they just stay here a while longer the nausea will lessen, he’s sure of it.

Miles chuckles. “Comfortable?”

“It’d be better if I didn’t feel so out of it, but close enough.”

“Poor thing,” Miles coos, his voice dripping with teasing sarcasm, making Alex feel a bit more like himself again. He chuckles despite his misery.

“Piss off.”

“Not a chance,” Miles grins. He pauses, running a hand through Alex’s hair, and clears his throat. “We have to get movin’, babe.”

Alex looks up, frowning. “What, reyt now? Why? Who was on the phone?” Surely Miles wouldn’t plan a date or a recording session today; they’re not supposed to even go outside and meet people. Besides, he’s with Alex. He’s _supposed_ to stay with Alex.

“Hotel management.” Miles sits up and Alex wants to shake his head. He’s supposed to stay. This isn’t how it works. The morning after can’t be like this.

Miles taps his arm, catching his attention. “They’re closing down. She wanted to know if we've a place to go, or if we need to stay here. I told her we’d just go home. So that’s what we’re doing. We ‘ave to leave, Al.”

“Oh. Reyt.” Alex feigns a smile. “No wonder, really. After all, the apocalypse has started, eh?”

This isn’t good. It’s like the daunting prospect of the ropes having to be taken off of his body all over again. He tightens his grip on Miles’s wrist one last time, then makes up his mind. He nods firmly and sits up, ignoring the nausea. “Very well then. I’ll grab a quick shower before we go, if you don’t mind.”

Miles sits up, too. Maybe he sees something in Alex’s eyes, or maybe he realises that Alex isn’t as steady on his feet as he would usually be after a full eight hours of sleep; Either way, Alex can see his whole body tense and he instantly feels worse. He turns his back to Miles and starts making his way to the bathroom.

“Slowly,” Miles calls after him. “We’re not in a hurry. A shower sounds good, though. I’ll join yeh.”

“No.”

Miles looks taken aback, and Alex, his chest tight, looks over his shoulder and smiles. “I mean, it’ll be better for me to be by meself for a bit; reflect on last night and land properly and stuff. It was a lot.”

Miles doesn’t look entirely convinced. He watches him, still sitting on the bed, and tips his head to one side. “You sure?”

“I just need a moment.” Alex forces the words out as he blindly grabs his change of clothes out of his bag. And then he once more finds himself in the bathroom where all of this started. Back at the beginning. His chest tight, his skin tingly and his nervousness slowly creeping up on him again. As if last night never even happened. As if waking up in bed next to Miles just now never happened. Which means that this - no, that he, Alex - has been a complete waste of Miles’s time.

He gets into the shower and scrubs himself clean with the shampoo and body wash provided by the hotel, not wanting to go back into the room to retrieve his things. He turns up the heat as much as he can stand it and once he’s done scrubbing, he waits. For his heart rate to come down, maybe. Or for his composure and dignity to make an unexpected return out of the pit of lost and gone. He promises himself that once he steps back into their room, he’ll show Miles just how much he helped. He’ll send him off with a kiss, a wink and a flirty remark, a thank you and a see you soon. After all, he should still be feeling floaty and amazing. He shouldn’t be panicking.

Alex finds himself wrapping his arms around himself, just like Miles wrapped the ropes around him not ten hours ago, and squeezes. It doesn’t help. Of course it doesn’t fucking help, what even is he thinking? This is pathetic. Alex is pathetic, Alex is _pathetic_. Letting Miles tie him up like that, letting him see him like that, letting him use him like that, letting him -

There’s a knock on the door.

“In a minute!” He squeezes harder, but his body isn’t having any of it. It protests with a sob that it forces out of him through his throat. “I’ll be out in like two minutes, Miles, for fook’s sake.”

But Miles wouldn’t be Miles if he didn’t have a total disregard for Alex’s personal space. The door opens and his silhouette becomes visible through the billowing clouds of steam that fill the small bathroom. Alex dunks his head under the stream of water, hiding.

He hears the tell-tale whisper of Miles shedding his clothes, and then the shower door opens and Miles steps inside, swearing under his breath as the hot water scorches his skin. “Yer a madman, Al,” he mutters, turning the heat down a little, instantly making it easier for Alex to breathe. A madman. He knows he’s a madman, doesn’t he. There’s no need for Miles to remind him.

“I’ll drive yeh home,” he murmurs, out of nowhere, letting Miles pull him against his chest. “Least I can do, reyt? Am not lettin’ yeh take the tube. You’ll get sick. Am drivin’ yeh home, and then when - “

“Hey. Alex.” Miles caresses his cheek with his thumb. He’s smiling, but he’s also frowning, and Alex is the one who put that frown there. He shakes his head. His body shakes with him. He feels lost. As if he just fell through a gaping hole in the centre of the bathroom floor.

“Alexander.” Something shifts in Miles’s voice. It’s that barely noticeable change again, but Alex knows it well enough to know what it means; to know that he’s once again forcing Miles to step up and take charge. He shakes his head furiously, even as Miles presses him closer to his chest. “Drop it,” he murmurs. “You did your part.”

“I’ve done me part alright,” Miles mutters. “Shouldn’t’ave dropped the bomb of us ‘avin’ to leave on ye like that. C’mon. Yer squeaky clean. Let’s get you into some clothes and then we’ll talk.”

Alex only notices that he’s still shaking when Miles helps him out of the shower. His mouth and nose feel strangely numb, and his ears are ringing. He has to lean on Miles for balance as Miles rubs him dry with one of those soft hotel towels. When he’s done he wraps it around Alex and makes quick work of drying himself. Then he takes Alex into their room and digs through his own things to find him a turtleneck sweater and a pair of sweats. “Put those on.”

Alex does as he’s told. The sweater is a little too tight on him, but he finds he doesn’t mind. Miles finishes the somewhat dishevelled ensemble with Alex’s own chain around his neck, so that he’s wearing Miles’s chain under the high-necked sweater and his own on top of it. Alex doesn’t feel like reminding him that he’s still wearing Miles’s chain. Not yet, anyway.

“Sit,” Miles says curtly, gesturing to the edge of the bed. Alex sits. This he can do. Miles sits down right next to him, so that their thighs and shoulders touch. They’re quiet for a while. Alex bumps Miles’s shoulder, and Miles puts his hand on his knee. “I put you through a hell of a lot last night, didn’t I.”

Alex shrugs his shoulders. “Nowt I couldn’t handle. It were what I needed, weren’t it. You know about this stuff. Just need to come down, I suppose. I were fine when we woke up. Just a little floaty and nauseous, like. Which is why I’ll sleep some more after I drive you home. It’ll be a good sleep if anyfin’.”

Miles chuckles. “You handled it beautifully,” he says, filling Alex’s chest with warmth. “And you’re right; you do need to come down. In yer own time, though. There’s no rush, and what I just did by telling you we had to go wasn’t okay.”

Alex stares at him. “But we do ‘ave to go. You can’t help it.”

“Still. Let me try again. I can’t help that I weren’t born with your eloquence.” Miles gives Alex’s shoulder another playful push with his own, and Alex can’t help but smile too. He nods and Miles, after a moment, tells him: “So. They’re closing down the hotel. They have to, because of the virus. All hotels, restaurants and pubs and what have ya were ordered to close by the government.”

Alex nods, waiting for Miles to continue.

“I propose we go to my place.” Miles tugs gently at Alex’s hair. “We’ll take it easy today. We’ll sleep, watch some telly, eat some healthy food. We might even have a cold pint or two if you feel better by the end of the day. And then we’ll isolate together, like we should ‘ave done from the very start, and wait for all this to blow over.”

“You want to lock yourself in one house with me? You do realise I make a terrible housemate, don’t ya.”

Miles shrugs his shoulders and laughs. “Yer not half bad. If we can survive being on a bloody bus together for months on end, we can definitely survive living in my apartment together.” He casts a look at Alex’s forgotten guitar case. “We might even get a song or two out of it.”

“Smooth. You could’ave just said that all of this was a carefully devised strategy to get me to write with ye again. Next time joost ask. No need to tie me up.”

“I beg to differ,” Miles grins. “You should ‘ave seen yourself, doll.”

Alex takes a deep breath. He’s starting to relax again, which is good. “You’re good at that, you know. The thing with the ropes and yer ‘ands and voice.”

“My voice, eh?”

“Hmm.” Alex nuzzles his shoulder. “Apologies for freakin’ out on ya joost now. I’ll be alreyt. I’ll get there.”

Miles kisses his hair. “None of that. It’s going to take yeh a while to come back up from all that. Don’t rush yourself. I knew it’d have an impact on ye.”

“Cocky.”

“Yeah? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Best not. It’d probably earn me a spanking.” Alex smirks tiredly at him.

Miles nods and raises his eyebrows in return. “Clever man.”

Alex can tell by the way Miles sits up and smiles that he’s relieved. He himself may or may not be a little relieved, too. The pit he just fell into doesn’t seem all that deep anymore. He leans back and closes his eyes, and thinks about it. Louise is safely in France with her family and Miles is right: they have lived together in much smaller spaces. If Miles gets fed up with him, Alex can always go back to his own house. And the prospect of sharing a space with Miles for the foreseeable future makes his breath come a little easier.

“I guess I could,” he admits, opening his eyes again. “Come home with yeh, that is. Just as long as you tell me as soon as I’ve overstayed me welcome. We could do some writin’, which would be a good distraction. And it’s easier to cook dinner for two than for one, anyway.”

Miles stares at him, arching an eyebrow. “Sure, because that’s what this is about. Dinner,” he laughs. “Very well then, I’m takin’ you home with me and I’ll make sure you’ll come down. _Properly_.” He gives Alex a pointed look. “Glad that that’s finally been decided.” He slowly stretches his legs and back and makes his way across the room. Alex does a terrible job at hiding a laugh as Miles picks up the bottle of pink champagne the hotel provided and tucks it into Alex’s overnight bag. “So," Miles says. "Let’s get this show on the road, shall we.”

Alex sits back, resting on his elbows, and watches him. A blanket of calmness settles over him as Miles starts to systematically collect the few things they unpacked, making patterns crisscross through the room not unlike the patterns he created on Alex’s body last night. Alex smiles. Maybe it isn’t so bad to let himself be guided for the rest of the day. Miles was the one to turn his brain into cotton wool, so he can bloody well help Alex snap out of it again, too. He blinks tiredly and Miles smirks at him.

“Wore you out, didn’t I?”

Alex lets himself fall back onto the bed with a tired smile. “Shut up and take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)


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